


Spider On The Wall

by Deathofwords



Series: The Angel’s Web And His Gems [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abusive Hannibal, Abusive Relationships, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, BAMF Will Graham, BUT WILL IS GONNA BE OKAY!!!!, Basically Hannibal is trying to traumatise Will enough so he can be his., Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Broken Will Graham, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Controlling Hannibal, Creepy Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Don’t worry its not sexual., Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Gore, Hannibal Lecter Being an Asshole, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal is a massive disgusting monster, If you like scaring yourself and having trouble sleeping at night this is the fic for you., Its freaky as hell., Its more just an invasion of boundaries and personal space, Kidnapped Will Graham, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Nightmares, No Smut, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Hannibal Lecter, Our puppy boy Will Graham is not gonna succumb to him!!!, POV Hannibal Lecter, POV Will Graham, Poor Will, Poor Winston :(, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Someone Help Will Graham, Stockholm Syndrome, Taxidermy, This is not Hannigram but Hannibal does have a creepy/love like obssession with him so., Ur supposed to hate Hannibal, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, Will Graham Has Nightmares, Will Graham Is A Boticelli Angel, Will Graham Needs a Hug, as per usual, fire starting, overcoming abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathofwords/pseuds/Deathofwords
Summary: ——————————————————For months Will Graham has been held captive by a man named Hannibal Lecter—A man who he can’t remember at all. He claims to be his friend. His protector. His owner. But Will’s nightmares tell him something different...something...darker than that.——————————————————Or, Will Graham hits his head hard on his plunge into the ocean and gets amnesia—forgetting everything that happened and giving Hannibal a new approach to bend and twist his life and mind into his.——————————————————Part one of a two part story.Inspired by a song.——————————————————





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No idea why I started writing this I have only watched Season 1 and the rest of the fandom spoiled it for me. (But don’t worry I’ll keep watching it) So yeah. This all started because of a song. Enjoy.

The hallway was dark, with black walls and empty frames. I was alone; staring at a white door at the very end of it all. Iv’e been here for a while now—waiting. For something. Anything. Anyone. Anyone but him. I hear a knife scrape against wallpaper; his voice as sharp and quiet as his weapon.

“ _Iv’e_ _been_ _watching_ _you_...”

 

Awakening with his eyes to the gold ceiling Will panted and trembled against silk sheets, his heart hammering and pulsing in his ears with a thrum. He sat up, his clothes and hair drenched in sweat.

 

The same nightmare as before...

 

Will groaned, getting up from a bed that was not his to stand in a room that was also not his. He wasn’t sure how he knew this—He just did. He sighed, sweat rolling down his skin.

 

Again, and again...what does it mean?

 

Since he can remember, Will has been living, reading, crying, pacing, and screaming in this room for three months. For three months Will Graham has been held a prisoner, without a memory of his past. A prisoner in this elegant, robust room with its tall windows and red curtains; the exotic rug beneath his feet soft and clean.

 

He hated it. He hated it so fucking much.

 

But he couldn’t escape it.

 

Not yet, anyways.

 

Pulling off his shirt with a groan he tossed it to the floor and then thought twice; eyes glancing fearfully to the small chalkboard against the wall. He read the clean cursive words to which were also not his, a familiar sickness curling in his stomach.

 

———————————————————

 

                    Rules

 

  1. You will not open any curtains without my permission. 
  2. You will not open any doors or windows without my permission
  3. You will not leave a room without my permission. 
  4. You will not leave the house without my permission 
  5. You will keep yourself and your room clean. 
  6. You will eat all meals with me in the dining room. 
  7. You will communicate with me througout the day. 
  8. You will wear the outfits I plan for you.
  9. You will follow the schedules I make for you



 —————————————————

 

My eyes outlined the final rule, gulping.

 

——————————————————

 

  1. You will obey me when I give you an order, and answer truthfully when I ask you a question. 



 

Failure to comply to these rules will result in severe punishment.

 

—————————————————

 

Fearful, Will picked up his shirt and instead went to the bathroom to dispose of it in the hamper along with all of his other dirty clothes; the handwriting echoing in his head.

 

I need to shower before he gets here...

 

Slipping off his remaining clothes he placed them in the hamper as well and then steamed himself under hot water; scrubbing himself down with expenisive lathers and soaps that he couldn’t read or understand. Grabbing a towel Will tucked it around his waist and then re-entered his room, a set of clothes that was not there before folded on his bed. Changing out of his towel to dry clothes he dressed himself without questioning or thinking and then sat on the bed with his head in his hands—his curls still wet from the shower.

 

He glanced at the clock at his bedside, the hands ticking softly in the morning.

 

It was the one thing he could hear other than the birds he would never see outside and his own breathing.

 

It drove him mad.

 

Muttering aloud Will reviewed what little he knew about himself, his feet rocking him back and forth steadily on the bed to stay calm.

 

“My name is Will Graham,” he began, “I am in a house in an unknown place in Europe, and it is 7:03 AM.”

 

Repeating this to himself until it sounded real, Will became wonderfully distracted all until the door to his room opened; the man that has been in his nightmares standing there with a pleasant, haunting smile.

 

He has seen him all before his nightmares, of course.

 

He just can’t remember where.

 

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal greeted him as he always did.

 

Will forced a response, the younger man looking down at his shoes. He bit at his nails, nerves on fire.

 

“Hello...”

 

Leaving the doorway Hannibal approached Will, hands folded behind him.

 

“Did you sleep well?”

 

Will lied.

 

“Yes.”

 

Hannibal looked to Will’s bed, his sheets in dissaray. He touched them and then stepped away, looking to Will.

 

“Make your bed.”

 

Will only glared, but then he obeyed.

 

Like he was supposed to do.

 

Always.

 

Moving slowly, Will hesitantly began to adjust his sheets as he moved around the bed; the smell of his past nightmare dull and faded.

 

For a while Hannibal just stood there and watched as Will made his bed; his gaze burning holes into Will’s pale skin. He tried to ignore it at first— as he always did when Hannibal was doing something creepy— but then the older man leaned in and began to smell him, his hands slipping into his curls.

 

Will went still, instincts screaming at him.

 

Oh my god, oh my god, stop. Stop, stop, stop, fucking stop, please fucking stop—

 

His hands trembled, a shaky breath escaping him as he pulled his now folded sheets over his pillows.

 

Hannibal breathed, intoxicated.

 

“You are not wearing cologne...” he observed near his ear.

 

“Why?”

 

Will stuttered, pulse quickening.

 

“I-I forgot.”

 

Get the fuck away from me, get away, get away, get away—

 

Hannibal hummed at this.

 

“Go put some on.”

 

Bolting, Will escaped the man’s grip with a pitiful crawl across the bed towards the bathroom; Hannibal chuckling at him with amusement.

 

The fucker—

 

Fueled with andrenaline Will decided to spite the man by drowing himself in cologne; his body becoming steadily consumed with clouds of the expensive scent. When he was done he stepped out to see a reaction from Hannibal. But he gave none, and instead asked the same question he always did each morning he came to wake Will—as if he had a choice.

 

“Would you like to eat breakfast with me, Will?”

 

And because he didn’t have a choice, Will merely nodded and followed Hannibal out the door; the lamb following the shephered to the slaughter.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stabbing his fork at his plate Will avoided the gaze of Hannibal as best he could; not daring to engage or start a conversation.

 

Hannibal noticed this from across the oak table, his features highlighted beneath the chandelier.

 

“Not very fond of eye contact today, are you?”

 

Will shook his head, chewing his food without tasting.

 

“Eyes are distracting.”

 

Hannibal tilted his head.

 

“Why?”

 

Will shrugged and glanced up at him, his amber eyes predatory in the dim dining room. It sent a shiver down his spine.

 

“Because I can see everything in them...” Will answered softly as he placed his fork down on the table, “Well, almost.”

 

Hannibal smiled, repeating him distantly.

 

“Almost.”

 

Bowing his head Will sat there and waited for Hannibal to finish eating; the man standing up and placing a slice of paper before him.

 

“This will be your schedule today, Will.”

 

Will lifted his head to read it, that same cursive hand-writing mocking him from the page.

 

——————————————————

 

Schedule

 

7:30 AM to 8:00 AM

Breakfast.

 

8:00 AM to 9:30 AM

Harpsichord lessons.

 

9:30 AM to 10:00 AM

Recitations.

 

10:00 AM to 11:00 AM

Lithuanian lessons.

 

11:00 AM to 12:00 PM

Silent reading.

 

12:00 PM to 12:30 PM

Lunch.

 

12:30 PM to 2:00 PM

Rest.

 

2:00 PM to 3:00 PM

History lessons.

 

3:00 PM to 4:30 PM

Cooking lessons.

 

4:30 PM to 5:30 PM

Silent reading.

 

5:30 PM to 6:00 PM

Recitations.

 

6:00 PM to 7:00 PM

Dinner.

 

7:00 PM to 9:30 PM

Opera house.

 

You will sleep at exactly 11:00 PM tonight.

 

———————————————————

 

Will widened his eyes, fingers going numb.

 

“You’re taking me to the opera tonight?”

 

Hannibal nodded, stroking one of Will’s stray curls behind his ears.

 

“Yes. You have been very good these following weeks, and your obedience deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

 

Will took in a breath. 

 

He was finally going to leave the house. He shuttered with joy.

 

Close to tears Will placed his hot head against the table and breathed sharply, Hannibal soothing him with a rub of his back.

 

He flinched away from it, shaking.

 

“Now, now, William—“ Hannibal coaxed, “lets not get off schedule— it’s time for your harpsichord lessons, is it not?”

 

Lifting his head Will nodded pitfully and stood as Hannibal lead him out of the dining room into the living room where the ancient instrument stood next to grand fireplace, the wine red drapes open for once.

 

Sunlight poured in and glared off the harpsichord—a breeze calling Will from the window. He ran to it desperately, a manic smile on his face. He stood where the sunshine glowed, letting out a release of breath.

 

He hasn’t felt the warmth of the sun in days.

 

Hannibal took his hand.

 

“Would you like to look outside, Will?”

 

Nodding, Will leaned into the windowsill and peered out cautiously; Hannibal right behind him.

 

And what he saw was gorgeous.

 

Outside, on the other side of the glass stood a grand tree against rolling gentle hills; flowers blooming in peculiar places alongside insects and weeds. It was verdant and undisturbed, a perfect place for complete and utter isolation. It was perfect for secrets. Perfect for lies.

 

Will looked to Hannibal, tears dappling his cheeks.

 

He had forgotten how much he loved the outdoors.

 

Maybe if he continued his behavior Hannibal would allow him to go outside...

 

The idea made him smile.

 

“It’s beautiful,” He whispered aloud, “But where are we?”

 

Expecting an answer Will waited for Hannibal to speak but instead was met with a hard slap from the back of Hannibal’s hand—the force of it knocking Will down to the floor.

 

Crying out, Will covered his pained jaw and hid his face; Hannibal looking down at him calmly.

 

“Let me ask the questions, dearest.” Hannibal said as he played three keys on the harpsichord.

 

“While you practice your piece.”

 

Heaving for air Will looked up to see an offered hand from Hannibal.

 

But he refused it, and instead stood up by himself with wobbly knees; his body shaky from the hit.

 

So with trembling limbs and fresh terror in his eyes Will sat at the bench and began to slowly play the harpsichord as Hannibal watched him from afar— his eyes never wavering either from him or the unhappy music that he played as Will’s tears fell drip by drip, drop by drop.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal scratched pencil against paper, Will playing distantly in the background.

 

He looked at him, his brown curls a halo of amber in the sunshine while his eyes matched the dizzy blue sky from the window.

 

Hannibal sighed happily.

 

He truly does look like a Boticelli angel...

 

All he needed was a little push to fall from heaven into his arms and he would be his.

 

His to keep and cherish forever...as anything.

 

A companion. A friend. A lover. A killer. He could make Will anything he wanted him to be once he was his.

 

But in order for an angel to betray his God he must first clip his wings one by one and give him new ones made from wax.

 

He must coax him, groom him— but also punish and destroy him.

 

And then when his William would learn to fly again his wings would melt, and he would fall into the deepest darkest part of hell where no demons dwelled. All except Hannibal— who would be waiting patiently in the dark for his fallen angel to return.

 

Smiling to himself Hannibal continued his sketch as Will’s cheek slowly bloomed into a red rose, the color staining his pale face as God himself kissed it—the angel not yet broken from the devil’s grasp. 


	4. Chapter 4

Once Will was commanded to stop playing the time slipped into his recitations, which was basic retellings of poetry from memory—something Will was terrible at.

 

“O lovely shining eyes that snatched thy heart away, How say does such sweet...”

 

Will let his eyes wander, fumbling the verse.

 

“How say does such sweet—“

 

Unable to remember the next line Will closed his eyes and concentrated, Hannibal circling him with his sketchpad and pencil in hand.

 

He glanced up from his drawing, whispering the rest of the poem into his ear.

 

“How say does such sweet power move? I thank you, Love.”

 

Tensing at this Will felt his muscles tighten as Hannibal moved in front of him; the older man focused on his sketch.

 

He hated him.

 

So much...

 

“Again,” Hannibal ordered, “Until you remember it.”

 

Holding back a groan Will did as told it until it was time for his Lithuanian lessons, which consisted of Hannibal sitting way too close to him and writing down the alphabet and small words of the language like a child.

 

Hannibal encouraged him.

 

“Repeat the sentence again, mylimasis.”

 

Will hesitated, repeating the sentence slowly.

 

“Katė sugavo pelę...”

 

 _The_ _cat_ _caught_ _the_ _mouse_.

 

Will hid a nervous snort.

 

How terribly ironic...

 

Hannibal grinned.

 

“Magnificent.” He praised as he stroked the nape of Will’s neck. “Now, write it down.”

 

Shivering from his touch Will wrote the setence as best he could on paper as minutes ticked by, the once pale sunshine now paved gold and bright.

 

By the time he was finished, It was time to read.

 

In silence.

 

Alone.

 

Will was dreading it.

 

“Sit down right here, Will.” Hannibal said as he patted at a uncomfortable looking chair,

“While I get you your new book. Do not move.”

 

Quickly taking a seat Will sat all scrunched up in the chair as Hannibal examined a large bookshelf against the wall, his hands running across the spines.

 

“Tell me Will, have you ever read any of Shakespeare’s infamous tragedies?”

 

Will shook his head.

 

“N-No...not really.”

 

Hannibal turned his head only slightly to listen, his hands finally finding the book he was searching for.

 

“Well then hopefully you will enjoy Shakespeare’s play, Julius Caesar.”

 

Handing him the book Will took it with a silent nod and slowly opened it to the first page; Hannibal stroking Will’s head as if he were his pet.

 

Will seethed.

 

“Now, sit right here and be quiet. Read your book—and stay away from the windows and doors. We don’t want what happened this morning to happen again, now do we?”

 

Will shook his head, nervously smiling.

 

“No, we don’t.”

 

Hannibal nodded, gentle yet strong fingers lifting Will’s chin up to look at him.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Leaving without another word Hannibal left Will for the kitchen as Will began to read the ancient play—his mind racing.

 

Why did he have to stay away from the doors and windows? Were they near other people?

 

Desperate for answers and a different face, Will placed the book down and moved near the harpsichord; the same beautiful scene meeting his eyes.

 

He searched for passerbys and houses, but saw none.

 

He sighed.

 

We must be in the countryside then—somewhere far away from a city or a town—

 

Cut off from his thoughts Will heard a knock at the front door and jumped, his hair on end.

 

The noise was almost unnatural in the room.

 

Will’s heart pounded as he slipped from the living room to the entrance, the mohaganey door calling out to him to be opened.

 

He stared at it, trembling with anticipation and fear.

 

He shouldn’t do this.

 

He can’t.

 

He will be punished again if he does.

 

Yet he wanted to.

 

He wanted to fling open the door and run away—far, far, away from here and his captor.

 

But what then?

 

He had no money, and no memories to retain—and he still had questions to be asked.

 

Answers to be revealed.

 

In the end, he had nothing.

 

Except Hannibal.

 

Cruel yet loving Hannibal.

 

Will closed his eyes, the trauma and abuse confusing him.

 

No. Hannibal is not loving. Only cruel.

 

He had to get out of here.

 

He had to.

 

So like a fly to honey the foolish angel opened the door; his wings getting caught right in the spider’s web.


	5. Chapter 5

With a gust of wind blowing in through the open door Will took a moment to indulge in the feeling of it—freedom on his tongue.

 

He was so close....He could just dash out of here and then—

 

He stopped, an old man standing before him with a look of worry on his face. He didn’t even notice him at first!

 

Will furrowed his brow.

 

“C-Can I help you?” he asked.

 

The man sputtered out a sentence in what sounded like italian; his eyes wide with terror.

 

In the middle of his setence he pulled out a picture of a young woman and showed it to Will, his voice husky with desperation.

 

Will stared at the picture and the man, bewildered.

 

What the hell...?

 

“Are you looking for her?” Will asked.

 

“The woman in the picture?”

 

As if understanding him the man nodded vigorously and continued to speak in frantic italian and bits of broken english; Will’s brain trying hard to understand what he was saying.

 

Will was only able to understand two words the man had said.

 

“Taken!” The man said as he pointed to the picture of the woman.

 

“Taken! Monster!”

 

But before Will could ask the man who the girl was taken by a presence grew behind him and he went cold; warm breath against his neck.

 

The old man screamed, pointing over his shoulder.

 

“ **MONSTER**!”

 

Yet as Will turned to look over his shoulder all he heard was the crack of his neck and a screech from the man, his eyes filled with the blackness of a thousand and one nights; stars haunting him from beyond. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are ya’ll fannibals alive....?????? Damn ya’ll are the most quiet fandom ever. I have at least fifty kudos and no one is asking me about updates or chapters or anything.........this is great! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my worst written chapter but please bear with me.

I turn my head at the voice, pulse throbbing. He’s here—but not. He’s in the walls. The floor, the air—Everywhere. It maddened me, but I was not going to let it stop me. I walk cautiously down the hallway; my right hand grabbing at the knob. Turning it ever so slowly I watched the door open, a flicker of something running behind me. I close my eyes, the voice clear.

 

“ _I’ve_ _played_ _a_ _part_.”

 

Will jolted from his state of unconciousness; thunder rolling like a roar behind the walls. Lightening flashed, the wallpaper from his nightmares dingy in the shadows. He was in his room, back against the regal carpet.

 

What happened?

 

Sitting up Will squinted for sight, his vision doubling with an ache. He held his head with a cry; sweat stinging his eyes.

 

What the fuck happened—?

 

Stumbling forward like a blind man Will groped his way through the dark until he found the door; the knob refusing to turn.

 

Shit!

 

Spiraling Will began to hit his fists against the door and screamed; his body sinking to the floor. He curled into a shaking ball of anxiety; noises and light of the storm outside tormenting him. Will chewed at his nails.

 

The thunder sounds like him. It feels just like him too...booming and distant.

 

Will thought about this as he tried to muffle out the rain, his ears ringing. Yet before he could clamp his ears shut the door of his room swung open with a near crash against the wall— a tall figure looming at the entrance.

 

Will went cold, footsteps approaching.

 

“Hello, Will.”

 

Oh god...!

 

Silence interrupted, thunder crashing against the windows. Will lifted his head to look at Hannibal—the man a demon in the dark.

 

He steadied his voice, trying to mask his terror.

 

“What...What happened?” Will asked.

 

“Why is it so dark out?”

 

Hannibal approached him— looking down at him with dim eyes. Lightening streaked across his face; gold eyes glowing white.

 

“You broke one of the rules, William.” Hannibal stated.

 

“You disobeyed me. Again.”

 

Will stared at him, breath caught in his throat. The door. The man. The picture of the woman...

 

No—

 

“What did you do to him?” Will asked as a cry shook him.

 

“ **WHAT** **DID** **YOU** **DO** **TO** **HER**!?”

 

Hannibal furrowed his brow, head tilted innocently.

 

“Do what to whom?”

 

Will thrashed himself to his feet, anger boiling inside him.

 

“The man! The old man that was at the front door hours ago! He had a picture of a woman with him and he was showing it to me—“

 

Hannibal’s hand grazed his face softly, storm still raging against the walls.

 

“Hush, sweet boy—It was only a dream—“

 

Will tried to pull away from his grasp but his fingers were comforting him; his touch as cold as ice.

 

“But-But it wasn’t a dream!” Will cried.

 

“That man—he was here— and, and— I saw him! **STOP** **LYING** **TO** **ME**...!”

 

Suffocating the younger man’s cries with whispered words Hannibal embraced the now sobbing Will as he stroked and kissed his curls; Will drying his tears into the fine linen of Hannibal’s shirt.

 

“Oh William,” He whispered to Will, “Why would I ever lie to you? You know I’m your friend...”

 

Will let out a muffled wail.

 

“No you’re not...You’re not...Y-You’re...”

 

But for some reason, Will’s words refused to come out and he instead was silenced by his captor, his body drenched in inchor. He went limp in Hannibal’s arms, the older man rubbing his back gently.

 

Hannibal mused above him, hands stroking the nape of his neck.

 

“It was just a nightmare, Will— only a nightmare— and nothing more.”

 

Will lifted his head from against his chest, voice barely a whimper.

 

“B-But...But I saw it...”

 

Hannibal shushed him for the final time, fingers against lips.

 

“Not another word.”

 

With strong arms, Hannibal then scooped Will up in his arms and carried him into the light outside of his room—the younger man unaware of the blood that dashed the spider’s clothes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh...Ya’ll are gonna love the next chapter.......


	7. Chapter 7

While the storm raged and screamed along with Hannibal’s soul he took his boy to the master bathroom down the hall—the two passing Hannibal’s room on the way.

 

Will had sweated through his clothes while he was knocked out for hours now; and though Hannibal adored his natural musk he preferred his William to be clean.

 

Especially for the wonderful suprise he will give him after...!

 

Chuckling darkly to himself Hannibal placed Will down on the bathroom tiles and then locked the door, a grin on his face.

 

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

 

This was going to be enjoyable.

 

Quick in his excited movements Hannibal turned to the claw-foot bathtub and began to fill the ancient tub with warm water; Will rousing slightly in the corner.

 

His eyelids fluttered, ocean blue meeting firey gold. Hannibal took in a breath.

 

There you are, my angel.

 

He stared down at him, mesmerized.

 

“Stand up and undress, Will.” Hannibal commanded.

 

Will looked up at him, not stirring.

 

Hm...an act of defiance.

 

Hannibal growled, grabbing Will by his shirt and pulling him up to his level.

 

How precious.

 

“Do not make me ask again, William.”

 

Will stared at him, tired trepidation on his lovely face.

 

He whispered a response, lips trembling.

 

“O-Okay.”

 

Releasing him from his grasp Hannibal watched as Will removed and tossed each article of clothing to the floor; his fingers and skin trembling from the cool air.

 

Messy boy. Impatient, angry...but for how long?

 

When he was fully exposed Hannibal took a moment to admire his figure as if he was a piece of art— Michaelangelo’s craft distant in his creation.

 

He was beautiful.

 

Sculpted perfectly from stone.

 

Immersed, Hannibal reached out to touch him but was met with a repulsed glare; Will’s voice tense.

 

“I thought we were going to the Opera tonight?”

 

Hannibal ran a hand along his chestand then trailed it up to the nape of his neck, Will holding back a cry.

 

“I changed my mind.”

 

Grabbing at the curls there Hannibal dragged him to the bath and then shoved his head beneath the water; Will’s gurgled screams better than anything he has ever heard at the Opera.

 

Tossing the rest of his body in Will hit the bottom of the massive tub with a splash and Hannibal watched as he struggled for stability and air, his bronze skin slick with water.

 

When he finally resurfaced he lunged for Hannibal but the older man subdued him with a pressing hand to his sternum, Will coughing and sobbing with pain. He started to beg.

 

“Please...Please, God just let me go! **LET** **ME** **GO**!”

 

But Hannibal only leaned into his desperate pleas, tone a possesive whisper.

 

“Never, mylimasis—“

 

He dug his nails into the place where his heart would be, Will weakly fighting against him.

 

“Never.”

 

Emotionally and mentally exhausted, Will knew that he could not win and went calm within the still moving waters—Hannibal kissing the spot where his heart was— and hoping that one day he could rip it out with his teeth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mentally and emotionally draining for me to write my skin started to fester and I wanted to cry poor poor will...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love torturing myself :)

As the storm became distant like the rain Will sat in the tub and allowed Hannibal to wash him, his body hyperventalating in steady shakes and rhythms.

 

Please stop touching me, please stop—

 

For almost an hour Hannibal rubbed and stroked soap and liquid into Will’s skin and hair; his body rigid.

 

Please stop touching me, please stop touching me, please stop, stop, stop, stop, **STOP**.

 

When Hannibal finally decided Will was clean he drained the bath and wrapped Will in a fluffy sweet-smelling towel, the older man carrying him into the living room to dry.

 

Will sat on the floor at his knees in front of Hannibal, the monster rubbing the towel over his freshly curled locks. He smiled warmly, rubbing a thumb across his cheek.

 

“Are you cold, darling?”

 

Will nodded his head, tears still dripping from his eyes.

 

Hannibal looked past him, the fireplace dull with rotten wood.

 

“I’ll start a fire. Wait here.”

 

Doing as told Will sat quietly while Hannibal moved from room to room, the older man returning with a cup of something and some matches.

 

Wrapping his towel tighter around him Will witnessed Hannibal sprinkle something from the cup onto the wood; his match causing flames to burst forward like a man’s sins.

 

Will sat back, startled by the heat. Hannibal chuckled at this and patted his head.

 

“Don’t be afraid, my beautiful boy. The fire is not going to hurt you. Here,” Hannibal coaxed as he wrapped his arms around him, “Sit with me.”

 

Pulled onto his lap Will went still and watched the flames flicker in and out; trying desperately to ignore the fingers and nails scratching down his spine.

 

Hannibal buried his face into Will’s hair, gulping down breaths of his fresh smell.

 

He paused, enamored.

 

“William—light of my life—would you like something to wear?”

 

Unresponsive, Hannibal stood and dissapeared into his room—the man returning with a set of pajamas Will has never seen before.

 

He placed them near Will and then sat down in the chair; Will dressing himself at the foot of it.

 

Hannibal eyed him heavily, his gaze disturbed with elation.

 

“I have a present for you, Will.”

 

Will looked up at him, legs pulled to his chest.

 

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of this madness...

 

“You do?” he asked.

 

Hannibal nodded.

 

“Yes, I do. But it’s a very special present—One you would need to recieve with your eyes closed.”

 

Will frowned, distrust in his eyes.

 

“I don’t want it.”

 

Hannibal tilted his head, leaning in.

 

“How do you know you do not want it if you don’t even know what it is yet?”

 

Will rubbed his face, tired and numb.

 

Fuck it.

 

Closing his eyes Hannibal saw that he had won and rushed to his room in glee—placing something heavy yet soft in front of him.

 

Hannibal stood back, waiting.

 

“Open them.”

 

Will obeyed, the sight before him strange.

 

What the fuck?

 

Staring back at him with dead, glassy eyes— was a dog. Or at least what was once a dog. Will reached out instinctively, petting it. It’s fur was soft.

 

No breathing.

 

No movement.

 

The dog was a statue—still and cold.

 

Will looked up at Hannibal, confused.

 

“What is it?”

 

Hannibal smiled.

 

“It’s a dog.”

 

Will frowned, fingers still combing through it’s fur.

 

“I-I can see that.”

 

Hannibal sat down behind him, head against Will’s shoulder.

 

“Look closer mylimasis—It’s not just any dog—it’s a special dog.”

 

Following Hannibal’s instructions Will stared at the dead creature for a while, hands curling into fur.

 

For a moment, Will thought he saw a glimmer of something inside it’s eyes. A flicker of—a memory.

 

Looking closer Will stared until an alive, messy dog appeared inside brown glass-eyes; the deserted street deep with the night.

 

Home and stars came to mind; his pack still waiting for him.

 

A name came to his lips, images and noises overwhelming him all at once. He began to shake; voice trembling.

 

“W-Winston?”

 

Confirmed with a laugh from Hannibal behind him Will felt himself start to cry again as a hard guttural scream dragged him down into darkness—Hannibal kissing and caressing him gently.

 

“Isn’t it wonderful, Will?” He whispered.

 

“Isn’t it special?”

 

Will sobbed, unable to move.

 

“Yes, yes—“ He choked out,

“I-Its...It’s ve-very special!”

 

Hannibal hummed happily, the older man unable to hide his massive smirk.

 

“What do we say when we recieve apresent, Will?”

 

Will mumbled out the answer.

 

“Thank you.”

 

And then, almost tragically, the angel’s wings congealed and metled from his back in a bloody mascarade of feather and bone; the devil awaiting for his future demon in hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the worst thing I have ever written please enjoy.


	9. Chapter 9

Hannibal stood above Will—his Will— as he writhed about on the floor in a tantrum of violent shrieks and cries; this ocassionally being stopped with a gag or vomit of spit and acid.

 

He had finally broken Will Graham.

 

At first he had taken his wings and gave him new ones. But now they were gone.

 

And he was elated.

 

Overjoyed.

 

Blessed.

 

Euphoric, almost.

 

Because now he could recreate him—bend and twist him into something even more magnificent then this frail, pitiful form.

 

A form, that would smile at the sight of blood and meat; and treat it like the very gift it was.

 

The thought of this very fantasy made Hannibal smile and laugh as if he was at a fine party with the swine he manipulates.

 

Yet this time the emotion was real.

 

And as he stood above his tortured beauty he waited until he finally passed out. Then with careful arms he carried his boy to his bedroom and tucked him in under the sheets; The idea of Will smelling like him sending a thrill through him.

 

He kissed his head and blemished lips; words whispered against them.

 

“Goodnight, Will.”

 

Stalking out of the room—Hannibal left his boy alone to sleep and then made his way to the kitchen, fresh bodies calling to him for a meal.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The room I enter has nothing inside it except a single mirror and a sink—scrubbed clean and white. I approach it in the dark as my eyelids heave for vision, blurred sight revealing an image drenched in blood. I blinked, the image turning real. I stared blankly at the message drenching my reflection; his presence taunting me.

 

“ _Beware_ _The_ _Ides_ _Of_ _March_.”

 

Will awoke quietly, sight fuzzy in the midnight air. He laid there for a moment, a ghost of whatever was left of him. He stared at the ceiling, making out lines and figures in the blackness. He sat up, looking around.

 

This wasn’t his bed.

 

And this wasn’t his room.

 

He stared, empty.

 

It was Hannibal’s.

 

Slipping from the bed Will began to pace back and forth to one end of the room to another; eyes wandering to little things on nightstands or dressers. But one thing in particular had caught his eye when he crossed it— cursive handwriting haunting him from paper.

 

————————————————

 

‘Found on March Fifteenth...’

 

————————————————

 

He stopped—eyes landing on the open notebook.

 

————————————————

 

‘The Ides Of March...That is the date I brought Will to this house. He wasn’t awake by then, but he was still here. Living, breathing in the same space as me...I wonder when he will awaken.’

 

————————————————

 

Will blinked at the words, baffled by his discovery.

 

Was this...Hannibal’s diary?

 

Tepid fingers against leather, Will picked up the notebook and noticed an open padlock near it, a small ring of keys next to it. Will ignored this, his eyes and fingers scanning and flipping pages quickly past passages and paragraphs.

 

————————————————

 

 

‘...When I came back to the room that day, Will was awake and sitting up in bed. He had a disorganized look in his blue eyes and in them I saw...potential. He asked me who he was and I told him the truth. When he asked me who I was I told him a half a lie, half a truth. I said that I was his friend and that he’s been sick for days. He believed me. I am happy.’

 

‘He mumbles in his sleep names from the past—but he never says mine. This morning at breakfast I asked him who Alana and Jack were. He was confused, and I told him he was saying their names in his sleep. Still deep in his state of amnesia he thought nothing of it and continued eating. This is intriguing...’

 

‘Will repeated more names in his sleep the other night. I was hoping he would say mine but he never did. I was angry. But then he whispered out half a sentence about Abigail. Stupid girl. She got what was coming to her.’

 

————————————————

 

Absorbed in the pages Will read on, faces and voices resurfacing from the deep.

 

————————————————

 

‘I killed a woman that looked like Alana Bloom yesterday. She had dark hair and eyes; just like her. I strangled her in an alleyway and then took her lungs and heart. Will can only belong to me. Only me. She will make a nice stew.’

 

‘I wonder what he dreams...Sometimes I hear him screaming. It makes me want to rip him open and eat him whole. I want to crawl under his skin, and live there forever.’

 

‘He doesn’t remember...He doesn’t remember anything. Not prison, not Hobbs, not Alana, Jack, Mason, Gideon, Bedelia, Abigail, Margot or Molly—But most of all he doesn’t remember me. The things I did to watch him squirm and whine...they are meaningless now. I wonder what new tortures I can create for my angel here.’

 

‘Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine—Will Graham is **MINE** to hurt to **MINE** to keep.’

 

———————————————

 

Mortified, Will kept skimming and reading through what seemes to be nonsensical scribbles until he came upon the newest—and last— entry, his jaw and stomach clenching with horror at what was written there.

 

————————————————

 

‘At first I tried to shoot it but then the enigma of noise came to mind. Instead I decided to skin it alive until the mangy little beast either died from pain, shock, or blood loss. Never in my life have I ever heard or seen an animal cry or beg for its life. This creature in particular did both until it went still under my hands. When I finished skinning it I left it’s red, raw body to rot away in the woods. It died a painful death.’

 

————————————————

 

Startled by a sound of heavy footsteps Will grabbed the padlock and key and struggled desperately to lock it—his hands sweaty and jittery with nerves.

 

The killer called out, a light turning on underneath the door.

 

“William?”

 

 **FUCK**.

 

Tossing the secured diary to where he found it Will took quick but light steps towards a door in Hannibal’s room and flung it open; the younger man shutting himself behind it as quietly as he could.

 

Sitting alone in the blackness of what appeared to be a closet Will curled into himself and listened intently as Hannibal entered his room—his movements sounding slow and thoughtful through the door.

 

Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my fucking God—He’s a fucking killer—He killed my fucking dog and-and-and—and he-

 

Overwhelmed with multiple thoughts and emotions Will felt a dam break in his mind as everything flooded back to him; his filthy, rotting memories overflowing like lake during a storm.

 

Someone, anyone— **HELP** **ME**!

 

He held back a howl as Hannibal left the room, the door closing behind him with a squeak.

 

Yet as Will held his breath with strained effort he felt himself shutter as his eyes adjusted and read between the lines—a sight almost too unreal disturbing him to his core.

 

N-N...No....No...

 

Inside the closet he was in—from all three walls to ceiling—hundreds upon hundreds of drawings and sketches stuck next to photographs—every single one being a interpretation of him.

 

 **NO**!

 

Unable to control himself Will clamped a hand across his mouth as a screech escaped him; the sound echoing off into the walls between ink and color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya’ll alive??????????


	11. Chapter 11

Amidst his victory Hannibal hummed a tune he heard a long time ago—his knife carving up the thigh he had recently harvested.

 

The old man he had killed, sadly, was a smoker and was developing lung cancer and heart disease. His organs were useless while his muscles were small and shriveled. The only thing Hannibal managed to scavenge from the body was the meat on both of his legs.

 

But—what would he create with it?

 

Pondering at this question Hannibal allowed his mind to wander; the older man unaware of his captive sneaking up behind him.

 

He was in bliss for a while; thinking of all the plans he had not only for dinner—but for Will. Sweet, innocent little—

 

“Drop the fucking knife. Now.”

 

Cold metal rubbing against him Hannibal peered over his shoulder to see Will holding a gun—the barrel of it pointed right at Hannibal’s temple.

 

Oh.

 

He dropped the knife, the sharp object scattering across the floor.

 

A challenge.

 

“Good, good—now—Put your hands behind your head, and move towards me.”

 

Hannibal did as told, movements cautious.

 

Will looked up at him, blue eyes accusing and hurt.

 

...Stunning. Absolutely stunning.

 

“So,” Will began, “Did you kill him? Did you kill that man?”

 

Hannibal tilted his head with a grin, confused by the question.

 

“Which one?”

 

Will bit his lip; sweat on his brow.

 

Come now, dear boy, think...

 

“The one at the door—the old man— Did you kill him?”

 

Hannibal paused, wanting to see more of this ferocious Will.

 

And he did, the younger man now shoving the gun up against his throat.

 

“ **ANSWER** **ME**!”

 

Hannibal chuckled.

 

His William was shining.

 

“Boys your age never learn the virtue of patience, do they...? Yes my darling, I killed him—and whom I presume to be his daughter as well.”

 

Will went silent for a moment before asking his next question, chest heaving for air.

 

“H-How did you get Winston?”

 

Hannibal shrugged.

 

“One should always have friends in high and low places—Don’t you agree?”

 

Suddenly, Will pulled back his arm and punched Hannibal in the face—his teeth cutting into skin.

 

Blood traced his lips, his tongue darting out to lick it away.

 

Will abhorred at this in disgust. 

 

“You’re a fucking monster,” He spat out, “Keeping me in this house—this prison— like a pet. Your little doll to rip apart and then put back together again. You’re sick. And now, you’re going to pay.”

 

Leading him into the living room with a gun at his back Will produced a coil of strong rope and used it to tie Hannibal to the harpsichord; the entire activity sending goosebumps of near arousal along his arms and legs.

 

If only he had a knife instead...Then he could hold it against my throat while I teach him how to stab and cut through flesh.

 

He smirked at Will, his Botticelli angel locked within the bowels of hell.

 

With me as his only company...

 

How delightful.

 

“What are you going to do now, Will?” He questioned, “Kill me?”

 

Will snorted, his voice filled with the darkness Hannibal has longed to hear for so long.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

Leaving the room Hannibal waited for what his boy had in store for him— Will returning with a large red carton. He placed the carton down in front of Hannibal, his face contorted in concentration and fury.

 

It was gasoline.

 

He must have found it inside his bedroom...

 

“Are you going to set me on fire, William?” Hannibal asked.

 

“I never took you for an arsonist...”

 

Will poured gasoline around Hannibal, a scowl on his face.

 

“Something like that...”

 

After pouring some over Hannibal himself Will then tipped the gasoline carton over on the rug and started to make a single, intricate trail around the house—Hannibal’s excitement morphing into disbelief in an instant.

 

He’s going to set the house on fire, leaving me to burn and fester in the blaze.

 

He was trying run away from me.

 

Away from my hands.

 

Far away from my grasp...

 

Desperation rose in his chest, the putrid smell of the liquid making him dizzy.

 

I will not allow it.

 

Fidgeting at his restraints Hannibal watched as Will made his trail encircle every room and hallway in the house, his voice persuasive but unpleading.

 

“William, dearest boy, you don’t know what you are doing. The fumes from the gasoline—it’s addled your precious brain—“

 

Will cut him off from within the kitchen, his voice muffled.

 

“I know perfectly well what I’m doing.”

 

Hannibal lowered his head.

 

“And what is that?”

 

Will sprayed the remaining gasoline on the walls off one of the hallways before returning, his eyes lifeless.

 

“Freeing myself.”

 

Lighting a match against a box that he once used, Hannibal watched as a small orange flame flickered and burned on the match; the spark eating away at the wood slowly.

 

Will watched him with a heavy gaze, blue eyes intense.

 

Hannibal glared, giving up on hiding it.

 

Stupid, insolent boy...

 

“Mylimasis—please—“ He coaxed in a mockingly sweet voice, “I beg of you, extinguish that match, and perhaps I’ll think twice about punishing you in the morning.”

 

Will growled, his voice cold and distant.

 

“Then beg.”

 

Hannibal braced himself against his knees, eyes gleaming.

 

“Never.”

 

The fallen angel grimaced, death dancing in his eyes.

 

“Then die.”

 

Flicking the match to the floor a roar of inferno bursted forward in hot scorching paths; the heat burning the rope that restricted Hannibal.

 

Just what he expected...

 

Tearing himself away from his restraints Hannibal lunged at Will asthe fires of a true hell blazed around them; the heat unforgiving and reckless.

 

For what felt like enternity the two chased and clawed at each other like demons through the flames; Will eventually escaping through a window near the front door.

 

Following after him Hannibal tumbled and collapsed to the wet ground coughing; ash and smoke staining his suit and tie.

 

He watched Will—his perfect, gorgeous William—run away off into the night; his vision demented and hazy in the moonlight.

 

For a moment, he reached out for him from his place on the ground.

 

I could still run after him.

 

I could smell him out, track him, hunt him down and—

 

But then, Hannibal dropped his arm into the dirt and merely smiled to himself.

 

Because this wasn’t the end for his little angel...

 

It was only the beginning.

 

Accepting this with a laugh Hannibal surrended himself to the smoke and then passed out in front of his burned house; a dark haired, blue-eyed man rushing through the woods away from his tormented past. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED IT BITCH TIME FOR THE SECOND PART. Did ya’ll like it!?? I worked on this for an hour I hope u do!!!


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